Exploitation
by SugarAngel6493
Summary: Look up the title in the dictionary and you'll know what it's about. Sorry about being gone so long, guys. Summer's here, so the updates will be coming back.
1. The Facts

If anyone knows anything about Eric Cartman, it's that he will fuck you up. This is the same noticeable trait that everyone knows Eric and Wendy Testaburger share, which is why many assumed they would eventually hook up. He made a kid eat his parents, and Wendy thought that a teacher was trying to steal her man and decided it would be a great idea to call some guys and… Well, you know the rest. 'twas a match made in… Some place really messed up.

But, magnets don't attract when turned opposite ways, but repel. Or something like that.

So when Eric and Wendy started dating, it didn't last long. They spent most of the time trying to destroy each other, really. And because they were an equal match, they didn't get too far.

Eric knew that it couldn't be him. I mean, come on, he's Eric I-am-so-awesome Cartman! And if it wasn't him, it was that hippie bitch, Wendy.

So, Eric decided he was gay.

This is a big jump in logic, maybe. But Eric's brain runs at warp speed.

See, Wendy was the only girl that wasn't an emotional wreck. She didn't have low self-esteem and didn't fool around and date guys to feel better about herself. The only real issue of self-esteem with Wendy was her fake boobs.

She also wasn't a doormat to be stepped on, which Eric saw was a great use for his partnership idea to take over the world. Clearly, if anyone would cut it to be Cartman's girl friend, it was Wendy.

But, since Wendy didn't work out, there was no hope in Eric ever finding a girl that would suit him.

That's not to say Eric couldn't have any girl he wanted, no. In fact, it was quite the other way around, since he inherited his mother's ability to fuck and have anyone and everyone. Eric just knew he was better than that.

So, Eric Cartman, on his second year of high school, dubbed himself gay.

And told _everyone_.

The brilliant thing about Cartman was that he could be a black, Jewish, hippie, gay MIDGET and still kick your ass and fuck you up and rip on you for the rest of your life if you had a problem with it. And he would never stop making fun of people like that and calling names.

Yeah, Eric was gay, but he will still call Kyle a faggy Jew everyday.

However, if anyone called Cartman an ass-ramming-queer, he would dig up that person's biggest weakness, exploit it, tear it down, destroy it, and then rub it in their face as a minor punishment.

A great thing that Eric Cartman has gathered over the years is blackmail. Stuff he could use, things he could pull out at the right moment and get what he wanted.

And Cartman always got what he wanted.


	2. The Bait

Stan and Kyle had a very special friendship. One they even had to give its own original name, because people always thought they were dating or something stupid like that.

Of course, even though they told everyone who asked that, no, it was just plutonic and yes, they were both quite interested in girls, Cartman never bought it just for the sake of making fun of them.

No, it wasn't just that Cartman thought it was an easy jab at them both, especially Kyle. Cartman maybe thought every now and then, when his mind had nothing better to do, that Kyle and Stan really did have something going on there that went beyond the definition of, 'friend'.

As it would turn out, Cartman was the only person who had it right.

Eric found this out when skipping his World History class one day. They were doing a bit on the Holocaust, and of course Cartman already knew everything the teacher was going to say, and more, so the class was useless to him.

While wandering the halls and questioning the ratio of distance and time between the school and the closest fast food place to get back before the bell rang, Mrs. Garrison needed to have something copied and had to go to the library copier to do so. Thinking quickly, Cartman ducked into the boy's locker room before Mrs. Garrison could spot him.

Cartman practically jumped out of his skin when he heard faint shuffling behind him and a tiny mumble, thinking automatically it was the creepy coach who supposable looked up and down kids on the swim team while doing drills. He wasn't even the swim coach, god.

But as he whipped around, wondering if humans had a camellia trait that would make him change into the color of the walls, he didn't see anything.

But still, he heard… something. He listened more, realizing it was the movement of fabric, and, yes…

The sound of lips on skin.

How, Cartman wondered, he knew the definite sound of lips on skin, was unknown. But he recognized it. And, smirking, he knew that it could be used.

So he crept towards the sound as quietly as possible so as not to disturb whoever it was. He felt oddly like a guy who tracks down animals and studies their habitat and movement. Careful, silent, so they didn't run away.

He stopped on the second to last row of lockers, pinpointing the noises to the other side. He peeked around the corner to see just what and who it was.

And sure enough, he had to quickly step back around to try not to laugh and puke at the same time.

"What was that…?"

"Mm?"

"That noise- Oh, shit, come on, cut it out, I think someone might be in here."

Cartman could hear it so much clearer now… The wet, lazy pull of Stan's lips off of Kyle's collar bone. Stan's finger's clumsily tugging at shit buttons. So _that's_ why Kyle all of a sudden changed from T-Shirts to button-downs.

There was a moment of tense silence and Cartman stopped breathing, praying to Mel Gibson that they didn't see him through the bars of the locker doors.

"…No, I don't think so. Stop worrying so much."

A wet noise could be heard, and Cartman could barely make out through the bars Stan's teeth lightly barring down on Kyle's neck. And right after, a very… peculiar noise from Kyle. Cartman tried not to laugh, realizing for the first time that Kyle was clearly playing catcher.

Cartman watched still, and noticed that he had his camera phone with him. He made a mental note to go home and thank his mother a thousand times for paying extra for the camera phone. He grinned and silently flipped open his phone just as Stan finally got the last button of Kyle's shirt undone.

Then, in their most glorious moment, Cartman silently caught the shot of Stan biting Kyle's bottom lip with his fingers working at Kyle's pants' button. The best part, Cartman decided as he left the locker room still admiring the picture, was Kyle's face, flushed to an amazing shade of red, brows furrowed with pleasure, completely subdued.


	3. The Plotting

Cartman wasn't stupid. In fact, he was brilliant.

As much as he wanted to, Eric resisted the urge to go to school the morning after he had printed out the picture (and got very good, clear shots of certain zoomed in parts of said photo) and show everyone. No, he had since grown from the mistake he made in the fourth grade by attempting to show off that one… pretty awkward… picture with Butters.

You know how that turned out.

Instead, he kept it to himself. He would wait until he knew exactly what to do with it, and then he would use it.

But damn it was hard. He was _addicted_ to that photo. It was like… Like heroin. He felt like a junkie, going cold turkey. It was killing him.

That picture was gold! Pure gold. It was better then the time he witnessed hearing Bebe and, not one, not two, but THREE guys doing _sick_ things in an empty classroom. And that alone could have done so much. It was WAY better then when he slept over at Kenny's crappy house and found that lone issue of _Play Girl_ tucked between his mattresses.

No. This was Kyle.

Stupid Jew rat, Kyle. Always messing things up for him. Always pissing him off. God, Cartman hated Kyle. This would ruin Kyle forever. Not only would this picture totally humiliate him, but it would ruin his friendship with Stan. Oh, this was good.

Cartman thought long and hard about what he should do with the photo.

He would often find himself staring at it, with lustful eyes. He reasoned with himself that he was just hungry for the Jew's defeat. He would gaze at Kyle's face, frozen in a moment where he was completely controlled. He knew that soon enough, that face would be his to see.

"Eric, do you have something you want to share with the class?"

Eric's head snapped up from his phone at looked Mr. Mackey (who was substituting for their math teacher that day) in the eye. He quickly regretted it, feeling a jolt of pain run through him.

"Ow. What?" Cartman rubbed the back of his neck, wincing.

"You have something funny? Are you instant messaging in the middle of class, Eric?" Mr. Mackey made a, 'gimmie' or 'c'mer' gesture.

Eric blinked and figured he must have been grinning. Of course. "No, Mr. Mackey. I was just thinking of how funny you are."

"Funny? I am not trying to be funny, mmk."

"Oh, I'm not talking about in class." Eric smiled and rested his chin on his palm, automatically opening a special document that was in his phone at all times for this sort of occurrence. "Here's a hint, Mr. Mackey: 'Karaoke.'"

Mr. Mackey paled slightly, but didn't drop it. "Now, Eric, I'm going to have to confiscate your phone, mmk."

"Oh? Not ringing any bells? I'll give you one more hint, then I can pass my phone, along with a certain recorded Britney Spears amateur, up to you. 'Feather Boa'."

Mr. Mackey didn't say anything for a moment. Cartman grinned and twirled his phone, open, by the antenna. He slowed down and showed Mr. Mackey the video as it played, muted, and meaningfully inched his finger to the volume button while Mackey stared.

"…And… The Pythagorean Theorem is used in this formula to find…"

Cartman nodded and closed his phone with a loud, 'snap' as Mr. Mackey went on with the lesson plan. _Yeah, that's what I thought._

He felt a chill down his spine, feeling someone was watching him for a longer then the acceptable time of when Cartman did stuff like this. He looked to the left of his desk and saw immediately Kyle, who was pretending to pay attention to what Mr. Mackey was saying. Eric knew he wasn't, because he knew Kyle already knew this stuff. And if he looked carefully, Cartman could see Kyle staring directly at him through his red locks.

Cartman couldn't help it. He grinned and wiggled his fingers in a casual wave toward the Jew.

Kyle rolled his eyes and transfixed his gaze onto Stan instead.

Cartman just grinned wider and mouthed something that he wasn't sure Kyle read or not. Then, he went back into his phone and thought more of what to with the picture while he stared at it.

He did this for the remainder of the day, and whenever a teacher called him on it, he would just pull out the blackmail. He really did have something on everyone.

_I… have… you… trapped._


	4. The Revealing

A week later, Cartman finally knew what to do with the blackmail.

It was so perfect, so simple, so obvious. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner?

After school on Wednesday, he met Kyle at Stan's dad's truck in the parking lot, where Kyle usually waits for Stan to get out of football practice to drive him home.

Kyle showed up right on time.

"Oh, man. Cartman, school's over. Can't you just wait to try and insult me _tomorrow_?" Kyle rolled his eyes and hopped up to sit in the bed, getting comfortable for the half an hour wait for Stan.

Cartman couldn't help but grin. Kyle had no idea. No idea at all. It was funny, really. "Nice to see you too, Jew."

"Fuck you, fatass." Kyle said offhandedly, hoping it would send Eric away as he pulled out his homework.

Cartman shrugged, still smiling. There was a good icebreaker.

"No thanks, Kyle. I think you would rather fuck Stan." Unseen, Eric's hand pulled out a few four by six copies of the picture and some zoom shots from his back pocket.

Kyle gave Cartman a look, like,_ what the hell are you talking about_? Cartman chuckled.

"Oh, that's right; you would rather get fucked _by_ Stan." He waved the pictures in front of Kyle's face, who just gave a confused look. "Have a look-see. I have tons more, so you can just keep those."

Kyle stared at Cartman, the same look he gave him that time in Math. Finally, he just sighed and mumbled. "You are such an idiot, Cartman…" And he took the pictures from Eric's hand.

Cartman turned around and leaned with his back against the truck while Kyle looked. He looked through the corner of his eye and saw Kyle pale and flush at the same time, however that worked. He grinned, wide, and heard Kyle shuffle through the pictures, panicked.

He turned back around when the shuffling stopped and saw that Kyle was staring intently at the one shot of just Kyle's face. "Oh," Cartman said, smiling. "That one's my favorite too."

Kyle was pale as fuck and if Cartman didn't know any better he would have thought he would puke. Luckily, Kyle had a stronger stomach than Stan. "Why, Kyle..." Eric said with a mock-concerned tone. "You're white as a sheet. Are you not well?" He gently put his hand on Kyle's forehead.

"**Don't _fucking_ touch me, you asshole**!" Kyle screamed much, much too loudly and quickly pulled back from Cartman's hand. Eric didn't like that, but didn't let it show and grinned instead.

"Don't… don't touch… me…" Kyle mumbled and crumpled the one print of him. He took a moment to settle his mind. Once he stopped shaking, Cartman thought it was safe to get closer. He folded his arms and rested his head on them, smiling.

"Pick your next words very carefully, Kyle. They could be the ones that judge just what I do with these pictures."

Eric leaned lower and looked up under Kyle's hair into his eyes, only to find that the pupils seemed to be dilated, crazed even. He wondered if Kyle was having a mental attack, or an asthma attack, or what.

He tried not to flinch when Kyle's hand quickly darted to his back pack and dug around briefly, pulling out his inhaler.

Cartman grinned. He didn't know he could have that affect on Kyle. It just… turned him _on_.

Once Kyle seemed calmed down, Cartman regained his own breath. "You hear me, Jew?" He asked, not wanting to repeat himself. Kyle took mind to what the other said, and only nodded. He mumbled something inaudible.

Cartman quickly climbed into the truck bed. He wanted it to be clear that he wanted to hear the next words Kyle said. He crawled over Kyle's legs, straddling him, and got to be a literal inch from the Jew's face. Kyle seemed unfazed, defeated. God, Cartman loved that look. Cartman leaned down to whisper in Kyle's ear.

"I'm sorry," He said, his breath in the Jewish boy's ear in a very odd way. "What was that?" He moved so Kyle could tell him.

"What do you want?"


	5. The Confusion

Stan sat down at the boys' usual lunch table with his tray. This was the first time in weeks that Stan actually came to lunch, so the rest of their quad just stopped expecting him. But, coach was sick today, do there weren't any, 'inspirational' speeches and encouraging pats on the butt. Thus; Stan had lunch.

Two things surprised Stan when he arrived at the table. The first was that Cartman was missing. This was odd, because lunch was Cartman's favorite class.

The second was that Kyle wasn't there either.

Stan sighed. He had thought that today he would actually get to see Kyle. It had been days since they last talked, not counting a failed attempt made by Stan yesterday. It went something like…

_Stan met Kyle at his locker, ignoring the creepy goose bumps from it usually being the other way around. He needed to talk to Kyle; getting the feeling the other had been avoiding him._

_"Hey." Stan said, trying to pull a manly tone. Kyle just continued emptying his back pack, picking out which binders he needed, and things like that. Stan tapped Kyle on the shoulder, wanting his full attention._

_"**Hey**." When Kyle still refused to look at Stan, the quarterback was getting really upset. Stan gripped Kyle at the front of his shirt and pulled him up an inch off the floor, glaring at him._

_The noise of Kyle's books dropping to the floor made everyone around them turn to look._

_"I said, 'Hey.' Goddamn it, Kyle…" Stan stopped when he looked, actually looked at Kyle._

_His hands weren't gripping at Stan's or at the shirt like expected, but straight at his sides instead, fists tight._

_His gaze trailed up to the redhead's face. His head was turned away, and it occurred to Stan that it might look like he slapped him or something._

_There was also… A… Bruise? A bruise on Kyle's cheek. That really made it look like he hit him, except it wasn't fresh._

_He looked up to Kyle's eyes, to ask about it, but instead of being greeted by the green he was so familiar with, they were squeezed tight, closed. He bit his lower lip. He was clenching every muscle in his body._

_Suddenly, Stan felt very sick, but not so that he felt like puking like he usually did._

_"Kyle… Kyle, do you… Do you think I'm going to hit you?" His tone was soft, quiet, and what he hoped was comforting. Maybe it was, because Kyle loosened a little, but still didn't face Stan._

_Stan finally put Kyle down again. Quickly and wordlessly, Kyle kneeled down to pick up his books. He stood up, slammed shut his locker, and walked away._

_He still hadn't said a word to Stan._

"Where…" Kenny looked up, surprised to see Stan. "Where is Kyle…?" Kenny thought a moment, chewing on what he hoped was pizza. Then, he shrugged. Stan sighed and walked away with his lunch, quickly dumping it in the trash can, and walked on.

What the hell was going on with Kyle these days?


	6. The Abused

"Cartman. Cartman, stop it. GODDAMNIT CARTMAN STOP." Kyle's fists came up fast, but Cartman easily caught them and with a satisfactory thump, slammed them against the tile wall. His arms still shook violently, though, which just made it so much better for Eric. He grinned.

God, that grin. Kyle was sick of seeing it.

"Why should I?" Cartman said, leaning down again to Kyle's jaw line, and biting hard on the already sore skin below his ear. "You like it. Admit it." He worked his way up to the Jew's chin. Kyle didn't say anything, lost for words.

"I said, 'Admit it'. It wasn't a suggestion, Jew." Eric's knee came up slowly and pressed against Kyle's crotch, making the other boy hiss. He smirked at the noise and went down to teeth Kyle's Adam's apple.

By now, Kyle was dizzy. This had been going on since last period when Cartman caught him in the hall and held him captive in the bathroom. They had been playing this game ever since and now lunch just ended. Cartman would bite Kyle, Kyle would get sick of it and try and stop him, Cartman would defeat him, and they would continue.

Apparently, no one ever went in this bathroom. Kyle had never been there, as far as he could tell.

But, his vision was blurred, for a few reasons. Cartman told him that his glasses are his forever, for one thing. The light was flickering a lot, which strained what bit of vision he had. Also; Cartman was biting _hard_. It made his eyes water. He knew that if Eric had bit just a little harder, he would break the skin.

If he wasn't humiliated enough as it was, Cartman just had to be so damn smug about it.

Kyle felt the pressure on his crotch get harder and knew Cartman must have still been waiting for his answer.

He wondered shortly how Cartman could focus on biting a guy in such even motions and kneeing that same guy at the same time and not have his conscious get at him for it.

The answer was simple: Cartman had no conscious.

"Just say it. Just say, 'Yes, Eric, I do like it.' It's that easy." Cartman teethed down on the exact spot that Stan always did on Kyle's collar bone. It made him uneasy. The pain Cartman taunted him with was getting worse by the second. Damn it. Kyle clenched his jaw.

"Yes, Cartm-"

"_Eric_."

_No, damn it! I'm never going to call you that! I don't care what you do, I'm never-_

As if reading his thoughts, Cartman managed Kyle's still shaking fists, which were now white, into just one hand. The other lightly trailed down the redhead's body, slowing at Kyle's sensitive belly button to tease him. Kyle's spine shivered and he resisted the feeling. Then, Cartman's hand finally made it to Kyle's tight jeans, and stopped with the metal zipper being rubbed between his thumb and index finger, ready.

Cartman's lips came to Kyle's ear lob and he whispered almost agonizingly slowly. "Just. Say. It." His teeth, gentle first because it was a new area to be explored, rubbed on Kyle's ear lob, waiting.

Kyle couldn't hold it in anymore, and a moan slipped out. It was really wrong, but it felt really good. That's not to say Kyle didn't regret it right away, feeling that damned grin on his ear. _Just say it. _His own voice told him, exasperated.

"I like it, Eric…" Hearing what he wanted, Cartman went down slightly and bit down quick and hard below Kyle's ear, harder then he had before, that made Kyle's eyes flood. He made a pained noise that Cartman quickly covered with a fierce, violent kiss. Kyle thought he tasted something familiar in it. As he pulled back, Cartman smirked at him, licking his lips. He walked out of the stall, his only good-bye being a faint, "Go clean your self up, Jew."

Kyle listened as Eric's footsteps faded down the hall. Then he licked his own lips and realized that the flavor was his own blood.


	7. The Musings

Cartman wasn't using Kyle for sex.

This is what Kyle quickly concluded to himself whenever he questioned why the other did those… _things_ to him. It wasn't about sex, and it most certainly wasn't about love.

Cartman just wanted to see him tortured.

There was no fondness in the touch that Eric Cartman gave. He never kissed him. Never a real kiss. The closest thing that Cartman had ever given to be a kiss was to bite viciously at Kyle's bottom lip until it bled. He would bite Kyle, all over, until Kyle would either just give up struggle, or bleed.

But Kyle was much, much too proud to give up on anything.

Once, Cartman bit Kyle's hip extremely hard, and it bled too much. More than any of the other cuts that Kyle had gotten over the week. It probably needed stitches.

But where the hell was Kyle going to get stitches done?

He couldn't tell his parents about the peculiar bite. It was too small for a dog and he couldn't exactly tell them the truth.

It seemed that Kyle couldn't tell his parents the truth about a lot of things.

So, because Kyle needed stitches and he couldn't get them legally, Cartman brought Kyle home to his mom.

Mrs. Cartman was, to say, oblivious to her son's behavior. He was just her little angel, and her little angel would never do anything wrong, like try and take over the world or worship Hitler and never ever black mail his supposed friend into becoming his bitch and then one day biting into a blood artery. Now would he?

"Mom. Kyle needs stitches."

"Oh, well hello Kyle. My, I haven't seen you in quite some time. Where are your other two friends…?"

"Mom! Are you listening? Kyle needs stitches. Now."

"Oh, but sweetie, he needs to-"

"Have a parent and or guardian who holds legal authority over a child under the age of eighteen, yes, ok, we know. But he can't, 'cause his parents are out of town. So you need to give them to him."

"Oh, my. Poopsiekins, I've never sewn up a person before, I don't know if…"

"But Mooooooooom, Kyle needs stitches so we can go hang out some more."

Kyle winced at how high pitched Cartman made that sound.

"Well, I suppose I can do something."

A half hour later, Kyle was sewn up. He looked at his hip and realized it was much better than any of the crappy second-hand stitches that the doctors gave around here.

Mrs. Cartman called out as she put away the sewing supplies, "I'm sorry it's so messy, Kyle. I haven't sewn in quite some time…"

But Kyle didn't hear the rest, because Eric quickly hauled the Jew upstairs to his room.

Kyle wondered now if Cartman just did that so he could fool around some more. It's not like he couldn't have with Kyle just bleeding there, but that would have been a little gross.

The first time Cartman made Kyle bleed was that time in the bathroom. After Eric had left, Kyle examined it in the mirror for fifteen minutes. It wasn't that bad, thinking about it, compared to the other cuts Kyle has from his waist up.

He thought again of that moment, when Cartman's hand was on the zipper. Eric never did try to get into Kyle's pants. Maybe it was because he just hadn't felt like it, or maybe it was because it was enough just to be torturing Kyle from under the shirt. But eventually, he would run out of places to bite on Kyle's neck and chest. Maybe he was just saving it.

Why was Cartman doing this to him? Because he was a Jew? Because he stopped Family Guy from being canceled? Because he was the only person who ever got in Cartman's way?

Who knew.

It wasn't the biting and the bleeding that bothered Kyle the most. It was that Cartman hadn't said he couldn't talk to Stan. It's not Eric who made Kyle avoid Stan for the past weeks.

Kyle just couldn't bear to face him.

If Stan looked at Kyle close enough a week ago, he would have seen definite bruises and teeth marks. But now, now Kyle was covered in scars. His stomach, his chest, his neck, even all up and down his arms, there were healing wounds. If Stan ever got close to Kyle, if they ever tried anything…

He would know. He would ask questions. God, Kyle wouldn't know what to say.

If Stan found out, he would confront Cartman. If he did that, Cartman would send copies of the photos to the Brofloski's the following evening.

If Kyle ran away, or if Kyle tried to bring in an adult, Cartman swore he would put them all over the school.

These were the promises that Cartman made to Kyle on the first day.

Eric Cartman never, ever bluffs.

In return to Cartman just keeping those little photos to himself, Kyle basically had to be Cartman's call-girl

It wouldn't be so bad, except Eric pulled Kyle aside almost every class period. Kyle would often find notes of distinct times to get the bathroom pass and meet Cartman and a specific place. More and more often, Kyle was skipping classes with him, doing it in bathrooms and sometimes leaving school grounds.

What was worse, Kyle was apparently going insane.

A few times, he would catch himself staring at a particular bite Cartman may have made earlier, and feeling… impressed. Proud, maybe. It wasn't right.

Kyle still felt sick about the whole thing. But now it seemed more like it was because he was supposed to feel sick, that it was expected for him to be disgusted.

Still, whenever Cartman found a new spot, or a pressure point, or a new tactic to tear at his skin, Kyle just… God. He took four years of Advanced English, and he still can't think of the right word.

Lustful. That was close to the word. Lust. Not exact, but close enough.

No wonder Cartman's were known to be the biggest sluts ever. They were so good at it.


	8. The Occurance

Kyle was an idiot.

This is what Cartman half-heartedly decided when the deal the two of them had going was on its third week.

Kyle was an idiot, because he wasn't being careful enough. He didn't wear turtle necks or scarves to hide the marks on his neck, which isn't that bad because turtle necks are for pussies. But he didn't even wear long sleeves to hide his arms! He could have at least done that. Since year-round there was snow on the ground, no one would have really said much.

But, no. Kyle decided one day that he would wear a tank top to school. And it just so happened to be the day when one of the five clubs he was in, Advanced Mathletes, met after school.

And, of course, Wendy was the club President.

Wendy wasn't stupid. Eric knew this. It was one of the reasons she would have been a pretty good partner in world domination. But it was also the reason that she immediately noticed the bruises that Kyle was so damn proud to show off.

Goddamn it, Kyle. Just goddamnit.

Upon confronting Kyle about his marks, he had nothing to say. Cartman knew this because he was bored and horny and was going to pick up Kyle from that very club that day, and came up to Wendy and him talking in the hall.

"Kyle, come on, you can tell me. We've been friends for yea-"

"We have _never_ been friends, Wendy."

"Well, we've known each other for years! That counts for something. Come on Kyle. I won't tell anyone if it's a big secret, ok?"

Cartman stomped up at this point and shoved Kyle back behind him. "Careful there, Kyle. Look her in the eyes and you'll turn to stone."

Wendy gave Cartman a flat look. "Do you mind, Eric? Kyle and I were trying to have a _civilized_ conversation."

Cartman snarled. "How about I give you a short summary? He says no, you offer him a blow job, he still doesn't give a shit, and you cry and eat your own weight in ice cream for a week, then go on Opera about your problems."

Wendy scoffed and quickly retorted, "Almost, Eric. But I think you forgot the part where your mom also drowns her sorrows in cheap male strippers." She looked around Cartman and offered Kyle a smile. "You can tell me about it later, Kyle."

Cartman nudged Kyle and Kyle automatically responded, "And you can mind your own business, Wendy."

Wendy simply shrugged, waved, and walked the other way.

The next morning, Eric was walking to Kyle's locker to slip in a note that read, "9:15, East Corridor, Upstairs Boys' Bathroom" when Wendy came up in his line of vision.

"Oh, hey Eric." She said, mocking what a human girl's voice should sound like by toning it lower. "What's that you have there, hmm?"

Cartman gave her The Eye, and wondered out loud, "What the hell do you want, Wendy?"

"Let me guess," Wendy went on, ignoring the question. "Another note to Kyle? I bet it goes something like the few I found: '12:20, Teachers' Lounge, Skipping Lunch'. Or maybe this one: '3:30, Mrs. Garrison's Class, Skipping Future Democrats of America'. Something like that?"

That stupid Jew needed to clean out his locker more often.

Cartman sighed. "So sometimes I invite Kyle to hang out with me when I skip classes. Big whoop. Those can't prove anything if you're trying to get me in trouble."

Wendy grinned. "Yeah, I guess it can't. But you know…" The bell rang and all the students in the hall vanished. Wendy whipped out two late passes that Class Presidents apparently have access to. "My position, it allows certain… I don't know. Conveniences. Like unlimited amounts of late passes and hall passes. Excuses to get out of doing class work… Locker keys."

"That's bullshit. You don't have right to go through student locker-"

"But I can just pick up a ring of Janitor keys that happen to be laying around, now can't I?"

Cartman stayed quiet for a moment, and remembered something. "So what? Kyle doesn't have anything with him that can get us in trou-"

"But _you_ do."

Cartman froze and noticed for the first time that one of Wendy's hand was behind her back. "What… What is that?"

Wendy smirked. Evil little hippie bitch, Wendy was. "Nothing really… Just a little thing I picked up while in your locker. But can you tell me, Eric…" She pulled out the white cloth that Cartman recognized oh too well. "Why you have Kyle's shirt?"

Crap.

"And why, also, are all the buttons popped out?"

Double crap.

There they both stood there. Opponents. Enemies.

"That's not Kyle's." Cartman said, making his best, 'What the fuck' face.

"Then why does it smell just like Kyle?" She grinned, a bitchy sort of grin.

"What the hell? You were-"

"I mean, I wouldn't know that well. But I bet…" She brought the shirt up to her face. "You would know." Wendy took a whiff of the shirt, sighing as she let it go. Cartman had to do all he could not to just kill her right then and there.

"Listen." Wendy said sharply, folding the shirt properly. "I don't want to play games with you anymore. It's just too, too boring. I'll just tell you; I know what you and Kyle have been up to. I know you know exactly why he is dressed in bruises and why you and he are spending so much time together.

"I'm going to keep this under wraps, ok? Not as a favor to you, but to Kyle. Maybe you don't understand why it is a big favor to Kyle," Cartman didn't, but he didn't dare interrupt. "But I don't feel like spoiling it for you. It's not my place. I just want to know: why?"

Cartman blinked, confused. "'Why'? Why what?"

"Why you're doing this to him. I assume you have some sort of power over him, because the Kyle I know would never just fool around with you, of all people, without a fight. I just want to know why you're doing this to him."

Cartman shrugged and hoped he could smooth it over with a lie. "Cause I'm a seventeen year old boy. I'm get horny."

"Why Kyle? You could blackmail anyone to do shit like this with you, Eric. Don't lie and say you can't."

Cartman sighed. "Wendy. I just really don't think-"

"Tell me the truth this time, or I'm going to tell Kyle I know right now. I know exactly where he is."

Cartman held his breath. She wasn't lying. Shit. "Because… I hate him."

Wendy hummed and looked the shirt, now neatly folded, over a few times. Then she threw it at Cartman, who caught it easily, and started in the direction of her current class. "Fine. Bye Eric."

Cartman blinked and shook the shirt out of its fold, picking up the late pass that fell out.

"Goddamn, that hippie bitch is scary."


	9. The Interval

First of all, let me just say I'm sorry that I've been on hiatus for a few months. I've been busy and at the time it didn't really seem like anyone was reading. But recently I went through my reviews on my stories and got a lot of happy-ish feelings. So I'm updating again, now that I have time to and know it's worth it.

Thank you so much to everyone that gave me good feedback!!!

And now, without further ado, chapter nine of Exploitation: Interval.

Stan awoke from a dream about insects covering the planet to a light tapping. It got louder and more aggravated as it went on, and eventually he had to give up the idea of going back to sleep.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, mumbling under his breath about if it was that creepy Mr. Jefferson he was going to be pissed. He opened the blinds and almost, _almost_ let out a cry of surprise and joy. Luckily, he didn't, or he would forever be known as The Pussy That Squeals.

Stan stared at his visitor for at least twenty seconds, which is twenty too many not to say anything.

Kyle gave Stan a dull look from outside and tapped on the glass again. Stan blinked out of his dead state of mind and opened it, trying not to think about every single overwhelming thought that rushed in his head during those twenty seconds.

Kyle pulled himself inside. "Hey, dude," he offered as he dusted off snow from his boots. He walked to Stan's bed and sat down, automatically hugging a pillow as he got comfortable. Like nothing had happened. Like everything was ok. Stan was trying not to think about Kyle's chapped lips.

Kyle toyed with the edge of the pillowcase, like he was waiting for something. All Stan could think was that Kyle was here for make-up sex (which wouldn't be the first time) and how quiet one would need to be not to wake his sister or parents.

"What are you doing, Kyle?" Stan finally managed to ask. Weather it was referring to the cold shoulder he'd gotten weeks before or why the redhead was in his room was questionable. Really, he just wanted to stop thinking about Kyle's too-loose pajamas.

Kyle took another moment to play with the pillowcase, and then answered very bluntly.

"I couldn't sleep."

Kyle and Stan back-and-forth would go to each others' homes at night when one needed to talk or couldn't sleep, even before they were dating. So maybe to Kyle this seemed like a valid answer, but it just gave Stan more questions.

Stan kept himself together outside and tried to be casual. He had to remember that he still didn't know what the other day was about. He had to think that there could be any number of reasons for Kyle to have acted that way but still feel cozy about coming into Stan's room at…

A quick glance at his alarm clock.

Two fourteen in the morning.

So he tried to roll with it. He couldn't falter. He sat down next to Kyle and tried not to touch him, while at the same time trying not to look like he was distancing himself. He didn't know if he was succeeding greatly or failing horribly before Kyle pulled his legs up to his chest and leaned full-on on Stan's shoulder.

Stan froze in his spot. Ok, he didn't have to think about distance anymore, that was pretty much taken care of. But still he had to try and not think about Kyle's chest on his arm and Kyle's head by his neck. So of course he thought about those exact things.

"Stan…" A sad, soft mumble came from Kyle.

Stan felt a million things explode in him at once. He wanted to stand up, to shove Kyle off him, to grab him by the shoulders and shake as hard as he could. He wanted screaming and tears and questions and answers. He wanted the magic of logic and the blasphemy of empty promises. But more then anything he wanted to kiss Kyle and just never stop kissing him.

But he didn't move.

"It's…" Although in his head Stan was screaming and cussing Kyle out, his voice was as soft and quiet as Kyle's was before. "Ok." He brought a hand up and rubbed Kyle's shoulder. "It's ok," He said again.

All you get is opportunity. It all depends on what you make of it.

Rubbing Kyle's shoulder led to rubbing Kyle's back, which made Kyle's eyes close peacefully and made him fall asleep on Stan's shoulder.

Stan couldn't help but smile despite everything. He laid Kyle down gently on his own bed and took the floor for the night.

Stan didn't know what was going on, no matter how many scenarios he thought up. But when he told Kyle it was ok, no matter what it was, he believed it for a moment.

Then Stan was falling asleep on his rug and doing everything he could to keep the thought he had of how calmed those green eyes were for the moment.


	10. The Calm

Waking up seemed impossible for Kyle.

The bed was so warm and comfy. And the pillow was full and puffy and soft and-

Uuuuuuuuuuugh Kyle didn't want to wake up.

But he had to. His internal clock said he had school any minute now. That he was late. It could just be paranoia, but Kyle swore he was going to miss the bus.

With a grunt he turned over and reached for his alarm clock, blindly. Catching only air, he tried again. And again. Then again. He knew logically he had to open his eyes, but damned if he wouldn't try and beat logic.

Finally he sat up with a groan. God it was cold in his room. He wrapped himself up in the blanket, still warm with body heat, and tried to bury himself in it.

By now his mom should be screaming at him to get up. Instead, five minutes later, an unfamiliar alarm clock went off.

Then he heard a groan.

Flipping out of his blankets, he opened his eyes for the first time, wide, and took in his surroundings.

And oh God he was in Stan's room.

In Stan's bed.

For some reason, Kyle really, really didn't want to go to school.

Stan crawled up from the floor and hit the big button on his clock. Then he immediately fell back onto the floor.  
"Uh." was all Kyle said.

And "Uhm".

And "Ah…?"

And also, "Hm."

Stan sat up again, giving Kyle a drowsy look.

Then Kyle remembered the previous night.

"Oh… OHH!" He made the face too, which made Stan grin like an idiot.

"Good morning sunshine."

Kyle took a moment to pull Stan's blankets free from the cocoon he managed. He looked at the still-open window and briefly considered how cold the floor must have been.

Kyle thought of everything he could have said at that moment. Explain himself. Apologize. Even laugh.

But he just said, "Don't we have school?"

Stan yawned. "Nah. Weekend."

Kyle looked at Stan's clock and pointed out, "But its Friday."

Stan got up and went in his closet. After pulling out some clothes he started toward the door, but paused in front of the bed.

"Look dude, if you wanna run home to explain this to your mom just so you can get ready for some classes you won't miss, go now. Cuz I'm taking a shower."

And he left.

---

Cartman pretended to listen to Mr. or Mrs. (whatever he was on now) Garrison since today he didn't feel like stirring shit up. But his gaze kept trailing to a certain Jewish boy's desk next to him.

Where the hell was that fucking Jew?

When the gay or lesbo or straight Garrison passed out tests, Eric snapped his pencil.

"Mr. Garrison, I need to go to the bathroom." He said, determined.

"Eric, wait until you-"

"I NEED TO."

Because no one wanted to go into the subject, Eric was tossing aside a hall pass as he walked to the parking lot five minutes later.

---

Kyle snuck his way back into Stan's room wearing a pair of Stan's jeans and holding a towel.

"Dude," Kyle said, closing the bedroom door. "You didn't give me a shirt."

Stan sat on his bed, staring at Kyle. In one hand was a green T- shirt. "I know."

There was a moment of just Stan looking at Kyle.

"So give me one."

"Not yet."

"Are you checking me out?"

"Only technically."

"Which means…?"  
"I am safely not coming on to you, if that's what you're getting at."

More silence.

"So why are you only technically, not coming on to, checking me out?"

"Why are you so beat-up?"

Kyle froze in place.

With a quick glance in the mirror, Kyle decided that he could look much, much worse.

"I noticed last night," Stan said. "Noticed how bad it was, I mean."

Kyle wasn't enjoying this Let's-Make-Kyle-Really-Uncomfortable-Game.

Not saying anything wouldn't work this time. Not when he can't run away again. Unless he wanted to run out onto the snow, still wet from the shower, half naked.

If those are Kyle's thoughts of disappointment or Stan's of victory is questionable.

"They're everywhere." Stan stood up, but with one knee still on the bed, holding the shirt.

"And they get worse as they get up you your head."

Kyle was a deer in headlights. If deer had bright red hair instead of antlers.

Stan walked closer, but kept the shirt behind his back. "It's so weird… Because they aren't even round like a punch. Just lines.

"And I've only seen that kind of mark once before…" He reached a slow hand up to Kyle's neck, heart beating wildly. "On you…" He grazed a spot on Kyle's neck light enough that newer marks wouldn't hurt. "By me, no less."

Kyle slapped Stan's hand away, grabbing the shirt from behind him. He was sick. Just so sick of everyone playing games with him. Like he's some kind of toy to be used again and again.

Kyle stormed to the window, pulling it open. At the same time, Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle's still-naked waist.

Feeling the cold full-on, Kyle pulled the shirt over his head. Stan didn't move, even when buried.

"Don't," He said.

"Please," He said.

Kyle tried to climb out the window, but Stan didn't let him budge. Being head quarter back paid off.

Kyle knew that if he wanted, Stan could pull him back at any time. But he just held him in place. So he stopped struggling and stood there, facing the snow with Stan as a belt.

"Please stop running away, Kyle."

And Kyle closed the window.


	11. The Solution

Monday came around and Kyle went to school like normal. After second period, history, Kyle opened his locker to a note fluttering down to his feet. He picked it up.

"11:05, West Janitor's Closet, Missing English"

Kyle sighed and slipped the note in his pocket. Glancing at his watch, he had fifteen minutes to spend in his next class to actually get some work done before he had to go.

As he walked to class, Kyle remembered how mad his parents were about how his grades were dropping. Since he was spending so much time with Cartman, he was barely studying and not paying any attention in class. He was just making it by, but he had to get things together quick.

Sitting at his desk, Kyle thought if maybe he could ask Wendy to help him study. That worked last time, when he needed to do that essay for what Pro-Choice was all about. Stupid mayor needs to stop talking to his teachers and basing her decisions on what the children had to say.

Wendy. Kyle wondered if she talked to Cartman like she said she would. If she did, Cartman would be seven kinds of pissed.

Yeah. But Cartman was going to be pissed anyway.

Kyle sunk in his chair. Cartman was not going to be pleased at 11:06.

During those fifteen minutes, Kyle didn't work at all. Stupid, yes, but he was just so stuck in his own mind. There was a lot of stuff going on lately, that's all. That's what he told his parents anyway.

At 11:05, on the dot, Kyle took the pass and went to meet up with Cartman.

When he got to the janitor's closet, he was violently pulled inside.

"What the hell, Kyle?" Cartman said in the dim light, right in his face. "What the helling hell? Where were you on Friday?"

"Cartman, I'm not going to do this." Kyle said, determined.

Cartman pushed him up against the door, hand quickly locking it.

"Where the hell were you? You weren't home and you wouldn't answer your cell phone."

"I was _busy_." Busy explaining everything to Stan as clearly as possible.

"And Stan wasn't there either. What he fuck were you two fags doing?" Cartman seemed to be ignoring what Kyle had to say, but continued to interrogate.

"Let go of me, fatass." Kyle growled at the other.

"You didn't tell him anything. You're not that stupid. And there's no way you two did anything. Not with…" A hand came up to Kyle's chin to force the Jew to look at him. Kyle tried to bite it.

"I said _let me the fuck go you asshole_."

"Shut up, Kyle. Whores don't talk."

"I'm NOT your whore, Cartman. I'm not doing this shit anymore, so just-"

Cartman gave Kyle a hard shove against the door.

"Like hell you're not," He said firmly before Kyle could get the air back in his lungs. "You know you can't do that, you KNOW what I'll do."

"And I DON'T CARE."

Cartman narrowed his eyes and let go of Kyle finally. "Fine." He pushed Kyle aside to leave. "Fine."

He opened the door and walked out, leaving Kyle with a mop and a sick feeling in his stomach.

---

At lunch Cartman was at his usual seat next to Kenny when Stan arrived. It seemed so normal that he wondered if Kyle had said anything at all. But when Cartman glared at him he figured it was all an act.

"Hey Cartman," Stan said, also like normal. Cartman grunted in reply.

They sat there for a while, not talking.

Finally Kyle walked in the cafeteria. Stan gave Cartman one last glace and hissed under his breath, "There's no way you didn't do this to yourself."

Then he got up, stopped Kyle in his tracks in the middle of the cafeteria and kissed him in front of every one.

Every one stared until Stan let go of Kyle and looked at his shocked face. Then some girls cheered, and other kids clapped. Kenny whistled like a cat-call.

Cartman just stared, almost as shocked as Kyle was.

When she snapped out of it, Mrs. Garrison who was eating in the lunch room got up and yelled at them. "Kyle! Stanley! Absolutely NO PDA! To the principal's office!"

Stan grinned at everyone and took Kyle's hand, dragging him along. Every one howled.

Except Cartman.


	12. The Aftermath

"What-what-what-what-WHAT the hell??"

Stan dragged Kyle down the hall, still with a death grip on his hand but without the smile he had on in the lunch room. Kyle gave him a bewildered look.

"Seriously, Stan. WHAT THE HELL??? You just- and in front of the whole SCHOOL- and oh my GOD we-" In the middle of his babbling, Kyle was cut off when Stan spun round quick and pulled him by the shoulders into a kiss. It was definite and determined but at the same time lacking the fierceness of Cartman's style.

Kyle just melted into it.

Red and flustered as ever when Stan finally let him go, Kyle just stuttered more illogical phrases.

Stan leaned against a locker, holding the bridge of his nose in a very Marsh-fashion. "I'm really sorry about that, Kyle. Really."

Kyle looked sadly at Stan and leaned back next to him. "It's ok…" He mumbled. "It wasn't bad or anything, just, you know, surprising."

"I mean in the lunch room," Stan added dryly.

"Oh," Kyle said, staring at the opposite wall. "That." He sat there silently for a few minutes after that, feeling very stupid.

"I just…" Stan let out a frustrated sigh, messing up his hair frantically. "I couldn't just NOT do anything… After you told me about Cartman… I had to do something."

Kyle nodded, understanding as always. They sat quietly for another beat.

"I'm really sorry, too, Stan. I should have just told you about it sooner. Or right after Cartman first talked to me. I can't believe I waited this long to do it. I should have trusted you more."

Stan stared at his shoes. "Yeah, well… I should have trusted you too."

And it was when they had the egg in elementary school all over again.

"I noticed a week ago. I left it alone because I was hoping you would talk to me about it soon enough… but after a few days I just… I couldn't wait anymore. I wanted you to do something, but you didn't, so I had to…"

Kyle gave Stan a scrutinizing look but didn't interrupt.

"I sort of… I asked Wendy to talk to you. I hoped that if she bothered you enough you would crack. But then she said she didn't want to push it anymore and she wouldn't say why. So my plan kind of backfired."

Stan stopped and looked to Kyle, hoping for some sort of reaction. The redhead just looked at the floor, brows furrowed. He went on, "If you hadn't come to my house, I don't think…" But he didn't really know what. All he did know was that he was glad he found out what was going on, and ashamed that he may have made it worse just now.

"You know what, Stan?" Kyle stared at the floor and almost wanted to grin. "My dad is the only lawyer in South Park, and after living with him for all my life I can't believe you found a loophole and I didn't."

Stan turned red around his ears and also tried not to smile. "Well, you know. At a certain point, insanity tends to make things much clearer."

They both laughed a little, although it was completely inappropriate considering the circumstances.

"…What do you think Cartman'll do now?" Stan ventured to ask.

Kyle frowned then. "Well, nothing I guess. His only treats were to tell the school and my parents. The whole school knows now, even the kids not at our lunch considering the speed of rumors. And I'll just bet that our parents will be in that office waiting." Kyle's eyes widened a little; just barely thinking about his mother finding out about this was scary enough.

"Oh my GOD." Kyle covered his face with his hands, slamming hard into the lockers behind him. "Stan, my mom- She's going to kill me. Or worse, be _disappointed_. Oh god oh god ohgodohgodohgod-"

"No… just me." Stan pushed off the wall of lockers and started toward the office again. "Don't worry about a thing, Kyle, ok?"

Kyle put his hands down, giving Stan a confused look. "S-Stan? You're not going to… What are you doing, Stan?"

Stan kept walking, "I'll take the blame, Kyle. I don't mind."

"What? You can't… Stan!" Kyle ran to catch up with the other down the hall. "Stan stop it. Stop for a second." Kyle stood in front of the other, looking at him while not looking at him, however he did that. "You can't just take the blame for all of this… You're parents-"

"They'll understand. More then yours would anyway."

"What about your reputation? The team?"

"Well… even if I hadn't done that just now, Cartman would have told every one in school. So either way my rep is down the drain. As far as the team goes… I don't know. They do need a quarterback. And they can't just kick me off for, you know, being a fag… However I'll probably be getting some shit for it." He shrugged it off almost too easily for Kyle to take. He interlocked his arm in the others, friendly as always. "Don't worry about it, ok? The worst that can happen right now is… probably a lawsuit. But that's not gonna happen, so don't worry."

"…My dad once took every case in the whole town and became a millionaire."

"…Well, yes, while that is true, I think that everyone learned a lesson from that experience." Stan grinned at Kyle, nudging him with his elbow. "It's ok! Come on, Kyle, it's either I take the blame for everything or… well, or you'll probably have to move far, far away and never hear the end of it from your mom and we'd never see each other again, ever."

Kyle grumbled something quietly as they finally reached the principal's office.


	13. The Discontentment

Arriving home later that day, Stan Marsh was in a bit of an awkward position. But that was not to say his parents weren't in a worse one.

The three Marsh's sat in the car, his mother with her hand on her head, much like it always is when there is a 'situation' like this. His father gripped and loosened his hold on the steering wheel, nervous and stressed. Stan just sat in the back seat, frowning at the window, wondering when they would finally get out of the car.

Of course the first to break the tension (or at least attempt to) was Randy. "Well," He coughed, trying to find an ice breaker. "Son… My main concern is that… well…" Mr. Marsh lost track of what he was planning on saying, but no doubt it would have had the same lack of reassurance.

"That I'm gay, right?" Stan deadpanned. He gazed to the rear view mirror, catching his dad's eyes for a moment.

"Now, Stanley, there's nothing wrong with… that. It's just… I wish you had _told_ us."

Randy coughed again, uncomfortable. "I'm not mad about who you are Stan. I just wish I didn't have to find out this way…"

Poor Randy. Poor homo-paranoid Randy, with his not-so-secret hot tub hand jobs and his lack of manliness compared to Jimbo. What could he say? _'Gee, son, did you get it from me?'_

Mr. Marsh got pulled out of his self pity party when Sharon spoke for the first time since they got in the car. "Stanley, I need to know… How long have you and your friends been experimenting like this?" She didn't even open her eyes to say it, but at least it was out there.

That confused Stan for a moment. When had anyone else besides Kyle become a factor in all the commotion? So he didn't really know how to answer.

"Stan."

He wondered if maybe they thought everyone in their little inner circle was gay. Maybe Cartman's little 'meetings' with Kyle weren't as secretive as he had thought. True, Kenny was a bit of a man-slut, but Stan couldn't say for certain if it was anything but girls…

"_Stan_."

In fact, Kyle was the only guy he'd ever done anything with. (More or less, he was pretty sure that his parents would be even more upset by the fact that he'd gone farther with his best friend then his ex-girlfriends.)

"STANLEY MARSH."

Stan blinked up to see his mother finally looking at him… teary eyed. As he opened his mouth to say something, she just shook her head and in an instant stormed out of the car and into the house.

Randy sighed after the front door slammed and patted the seat Sharon was just in, restarting the car. "Come on, Stan. Let's go get some lunch."

---

"Oh we are going to SUE HIM."

Sheila glared at Gerald, who was pacing Kyle's room. "Now, Gerald, stop it, now is NOT the time to be thinking like that." She looked at Kyle, with whom she was sitting on the bed. "Kyle... I know this may be difficult for you, but I'm afraid I need some answers."

Gerald snarled. "Darn right we need some answers. And a warrant."

Sheila gave he husband a steady look, which immediately made him sit down at the desk. Satisfied, she continued.

"Kyle… it was just a kiss, right? Only a kiss. Right? Nothing else?"

Gerald growled while his OCD kicked in and he tidied up Kyle's desk.

"You weren't even expecting it, were you? It just surprised you. Like if there was mistletoe and you didn't even see it coming. Isn't that right?"

She took her son's hand in hers, trying to make eye contact. "He never did anything else, did he? Oh Kyle… Did he? Did he ever do anything else… things like… he would do to a girl?

"Oh, Kyle… did he ever…? You do know, don't you? They teach you these things in school, don't they? Did he ever do anything like that?"

Gerald continued to clean up the desk in the background, mindlessly arranging books and notebooks.

"Kyle…" She gave her son's hand a squeeze. "Was it _rape_?" The word was dripping with malice. "Did he rape you?"

Gerald tried not to chime in while he made the place neat, picking up a blue notebook that could have been for anything.

"Oh… Oh Kyle. He raped you, is that it? Kyle? No, he… He couldn't have. No… You're a smart boy, Kyle, you would never let that happen… No. No you wouldn't. I have faith that you wouldn't, Kyle."

Gerald's hand slipped and the notebook hit the ground, open.

"Kyle… Kyle you wouldn't… I mean, you aren't… You don't do things like your little friends, do you? No… No I know you don't. Like what Stanley did today? Kiss you? You wouldn't even think about doing that back. Right?"

As Gerald picked up the notebook, his eyes gazed over something they probably shouldn't have. In fact, if they hadn't, then he never would have thought anything other then suing Stanley Marsh, and it probably would have saved him a lot of confusion and fear. But they did.

"Kyle you don't like boys the way you like girls, right? You don't like your little friend Stanley like that, do you?

Kyle?

Kyle, please look at me. I need you to look in my eyes and tell me.

Kyle?

Kyle, please stop crying."


	14. FAQ

Ok, just a quickie before we get started with chapter fourteen of Exploitation. I just want to get all these out of the way. Think of it as an FAQ only some of you guys did and did not ask these things.

Q. You're writing is awesome. But I sometimes think I recognize some things.

A. Well, probably. I make a lot of references in this particular fanfic. It usually will be something to another fanfic (probably by Seaouryou, since that's one of my fav SP slashers.) Sometimes I'll also use lines here and there from other things I've read. Later on, hopefully after this next chapter, I'll do a list of references.

Q. How is this story romance??

A. Well, actually, there is a LOT of romance floating around this fic. There's Stan and Kyle's relationship (I refer to it as the protagonist romance) and if you think REALLY hard, there's Cartman and Kyle's relationship (I call this pairing the antagonist romance). It's one of those romances that can be anything but romances, but really are romances. Don't think about that for more then two seconds. …Trust me on this one.

Q. Poor Kyle! DDD: Why would you do this to him?

A. Because I'm the author. Actually, don't feel too bad for Kyle. He's somewhat enjoying the blackmail, if ya know what I mean. In fact, you should be happy for him; He's getting laid all over town.

Q. Ew! Gay boys! Butt-sex! GROSS!!11eleven1

A. Fuck off. D No really, fuck off. I hate spammers. And you guys have been pretty good about that, so this isn't really directed at any of you reviewers. But since I didn't technically put a warning up at the beginning, I just would rather prevent any flamers now. FUCK OFF HOMOPHOBES. xD

Q. Who is Kyle gonna end up with?? Come on, tell me, tell me, tell ME!!

A. Sorry, everyone, that is a surprise for the very end. Don't worry, though. I think everyone will be satisfied with how I've got the ending planned.

Q. I love you. D:

A. Aw. Thank you.

Q. I don't understand some parts of this chapter/ I don't really know what happened.

A. Look again. And if it doesn't say it right out, it probably isn't important. xD I reread this thing a million times, so I usually catch any mistakes I make.

Q. GASP. Kyle's parents Evil!!

A. No. xD Sorry to burst your bubbles, everyone, but I seriously don't think The Brofloskis are bad people. Maybe not the BEST people, but they aren't bad. And as far as the last chapter goes, no, Kyle's mom wasn't trying to assume things. She was just trying to get some answers from a son who was too upset to actually give any. And Gerald isn't that serious about sueing Stan, either. He's just pretty pissed that his son was kiss-rapped (Oh, another reference.).

Q. OMG what did Kyle's dad find??

A. Ok, ok, I'll actually give this one away: Remember how Cartman made copies of those photos? And then he gave some to Kyle for the blackmail and just never really took them back in a noticeable way? Well… So, yeah, Gerald found a picture. This could be good or bad.

Ok, that's about it for the not-FAQ. If you have something else that you need me to cover, please just review and I'll put it up. xD Hope this was helpful.

-Boo

P.S. A new chapter will be up hopefully before Holloween, so keep a look out.


	15. The Appreciation

Stan found himself sitting across from his dad, eating burgers that were just a little bit burnt. It was quiet, but not at all pleasant.

After a few awkward bites of his lunch, Randy finally broke the silence. "Stanley… You have been hiding some things from me and your mother… I can understand that. We all have our secrets…" Some more then others.

Stan looked up at his dad from behind a soda and thought to himself, _but_…?

"But," There it was. "You should know better then to get yourself into trouble like that. I mean… There's a time and a place Stan." Randy gave his son a quizzical look. "Do you know what I mean?"

Stan nodded and dipped a fry in ketchup. He wondered how long this little talk could go on without himself actually saying anything.

"Son…" Mr. Marsh started in that tone that was filled with exhaustion. "You and Kyle… you've been so close, since before anything else. I wouldn't muck up a friendship like that just because of…" He strained for the right word. God, this was difficult. "An incident like this one."

That sounded promising to Stan. Now he started paying attention.

"I don't want to ruin your friendship," Randy said again. "So… I'm not going to be the bad guy and say that you can never see Kyle again. But, son, if you're going to do stuff like that with your friends," There it was again. Geez, you'd think Stan was humping everyone in school. "Then at least don't make a big scene out of it. Keep it 'on the down low' I suppose."

_Dad, you are old. But at least you aren't a jerk. _"Ok, Dad." Stan finally said, trying not to sound too cheerful. Well, there was one obstacle out of the way. Now only one hundred more to go.

"Dad… is mom ok? She seemed really disappointed." Stan frowned at that. He didn't want his mom to be upset about this.

"You're mother's going to be fine. Just… give her a little time. She's a bit shocked, is all." Randy tried his best to give a reassuring smile, but it just came out as nervous.

"Eat your burger Stan."

---

Kyle spent the rest of the day in his room. His parents could be heard as faint mumbles downstairs, not that he was really listening. He spent the time that he was just laying on his bed, deep in thought.

Of course the best word to describe how he felt was confused. And a little frustrated. He really didn't know what to do now. He supposed in a logical sense, he just needed to talk to his parents.

Which was his biggest phobia.

Kyle sighed and turned over, burying himself in blankets. This was… just horrible. He didn't really know what to think. Or who to blame.

Tap.

He didn't want it to be Stan's fault. He'd only done it to get Kyle out of an even bigger mess.

Tap.

Stan… Kyle wondered how Stan was doing right now.

Tap.

"For the love of-" Kyle got up and opened his window. "WHAT?"

Eric Cartman glared at Kyle from down below, and threw another pebble, which bounced off of his glasses. "Come on."

Kyle dodged the next pebble and it landed somewhere on his bed. "Cartman? What the hell?"

Eric threw another pebble, which hit Kyle in the cheek, hard. "I could ask you the same thing. But later. Come on."

Kyle glared at Eric, rubbing the spot on his cheek. "'Come on' what? I'm not going with you anywhere."

"So you'd rather stay here and wallow in your emo?" Eric deadpanned.

Kyle paused and thought about it. He could hear his parents a little bit clearer now, and knew they were coming up.

"Ok. Yeah, sure. Let's go."

Cartman grinned. Won again. "Climb down and we'll head to my place."


	16. The Rehabilitation

"Why are you here?" Kyle persisted, not so much resisting being dragged along through the snow but more or less faintly fussing. That's all he would ask, too, 'Why are you here?' And also, "What's going on?"

Cartman didn't answer either, just trudged on getting the inside of his sneakers wet with packed snow and the inside of his head pained with silent rage. By the time they had arrived at his house, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to be there.

What he really wanted was a dark closet or maybe a quiet, empty classroom. Going home just wasn't part of his image for this. So the second he got to the door, he turned around, twisting Kyle along with him.

"What's going on?" Kyle asked again, trying to will Cartman to let go of his wrist. "What's going _on_?" Of course no answers would come, but at this point Eric was about to explode with who-knows what kind of frustration. He could feel the tumor crawling into his hip.

So he stopped (making Kyle, who was struggling to keep up, bump right into him) and grabbed Kyle by the shoulders. For a moment, he just looked at Kyle, who was still looking confused and irritated. And somehow, in a round-about way, a little embarrassed.

He leaned down, real slow, and Kyle would have flinched away if Eric wasn't squeezing his shoulders so tight. Or maybe if he hadn't looked so serious. Or maybe if Kyle hadn't spent most of his afternoon laying in his bed, crying.

Looking though his dorsal stream thought his red, puffy eyes, thought his old, cracked glasses, maybe Kyle wasn't at his brightest and a little bit distracted when he thought Cartman- Eric Cartman, was about to kiss him. And maybe he wasn't worthy of being an AP Honors Student when he decided that wouldn't be a bad thing.

But Eric didn't kiss him. He just leaned down and looked Kyle straight in the eyes. And while Kyle was waiting for something, Cartman pinched his collar bone hard enough to make his squirm away.

"Ow."

"See?"

"What?"

"That's how easy it is."

Kyle peeked up at Eric thought his curly hair and gave him a look. "Why are you here?" He asked for the hundredth time.

And for the hundredth time Cartman didn't answer. He just said, "I like it when you cry."

Kyle gave him another look, 'Well, duh'.

And "You have to wear your glasses." In a more explanatory way.

And then Cartman turned back around and pulled Kyle along again, toward the school.


	17. The Autonomy

One short walk, two broken windows, and one awkward silence later, Kyle and Cartman sat atop desks in a dark, empty classroom. Kyle could have cried (if he hadn't already felt so dehydrated), he was so pleased to be there.

It was calm. And serene. It felt like when he held his breath and laid under the water of a warm bath. It felt like the wrong kind of joy that getting high with kids he hardly knew gave. It felt like getting away from South Park

Sitting there, with Cartman, Kyle tried not to think of his inane emotions, or of his psycho parents, or of his dropping grades, or of how they were all Cartman's fault.

He was tired of blaming people.

"Does the back of your head hurt?"

Kyle perked up, out of his mesmerizing state, and turned to see Eric's silhouette against the window. "What?"

"You know," Cartman said, not looking at him. "From when it slammed against the door. This morning."

For a moment Kyle didn't know what he meant, but when he reached behind himself and touched a sore bump, he remembered. Oh, the janitor's closet. "Eh… not really. Not noticeable, anyway."

Cartman sighed, heavy and exhausted. He turned around then, and walked up to Kyle. Even with the Jew sitting on a desk, he was still shorter then Eric. "Listen," He said, serious. "If you've got anything to surprise me left, tell me now. Because the rest of this is going to get a hell of a lot worse."

Kyle took a moment to think, considering it. Standing that close to Eric seemed off without feeling any pain or hormones or anything really. "You want a surprise?" He said, glancing back up at the other. "Right now, I don't hate you."

Cartman nodded, looking thoughtful. "Well," He mumbled, turning back around. "It's a start."

Back at the window, Eric was keeping watch. It was already seven, and he doubted anyone besides Pedro, the custodian, would be showing up. It seemed safe enough.

"Ok." He said, putting his hands together with a loud 'clap'. "We can stay here tonight. In the cafeteria there's canned fruit and pre-packaged drinks. In the home economics classroom there's all kinds of dye for your hair. And anything else we might need to disguise ourselves."

Kyle gave Cartman a confused face. What was he going on about? "What do you mean by 'the rest of this'? What are you planning?"

Cartman picked up his back pack and pulled out a map of the United States. Already Colorado had a bold, red 'x' over it.

"Remember when we crossed the country on tricycles in the fourth grade? Think of this as that, only on a wider scale." He smiled and pointed to a spot on the map that was circled with black marker. "We can stop here and make a little bit of quick cash."

Kyle gave Eric a bemused look. "We're running away?"

"No. We're using tactical offense to fulfill a part of a bigger game plan." Cartman wiggled his eyebrows. "Running away would be cowardly."

Kyle stepped back, away from Cartman and this crazy plan. "No. We can't just do that. What about Stan?"

"Stan will still be here, with his little problems and his little solutions. You will have vanished before anyone knows any better. Think about it. There's nothing they can do to Stan if he had nothing to do with it. Which he didn't. Wont." Clearly, Eric had thought this over.

Kyle bit his lip. Right now he wanted his inhaler, and his math textbook, and his life before sodomy. This didn't seem like the kind of choice a sixteen year old should have to make.

"You won't have to lift a finger. I got it all planned out." Eric explained. "See, look, we can take my car all the way to New Jersey before I'd be out of money for gas. Then we can truck stop-hop in Jersey and probably make it to Chicago from just that. If we're lucky enough, we can truck stop-hop all the way to Oklahoma. Then from there… Hey, are you listening?"

Kyle blinked away from the map, still feeling a bit shocked.

"I can't believe you expect me to just go along with this." He said, rubbing his forehead.

"You know you will. I've seen the future, and you're going with this." Cartman said matter-of-factly. "And, if you can't believe that, you won't believe that I will somehow manage to get you to get rid of your hat and dye your hair. Now pay attention, I'm trying to explain something."

Kyle shook his head, and his cell phone started to ring. He pulled it out of his jean pocket and looked at the number. "Oh." He said, wide eyed. "It's my parents."

Cartman quickly reached out to grab the phone, but Kyle twisted away, making them in a kind of coiled position. Eric held the wrist that was holding the cell phone and said, "Give it."

Kyle glared. "No. They might be worried." He tried to pull farther away from Cartman, but the other was holding his waist with the other arm.

"Kyle," Eric said, holding the other's waist tighter. "If you answer that phone, you'll never get away. You won't get what you want by answering that phone." He tried to pull the Jew's wrist closer, but that insane strength was on full blast.

"Kyle, if you don't give me that phone," Which was still ringing and vibrating in Kyle's hand. "You'll never see me again. I promise you'll never see me ever again. Or Stan." As if Cartman cared if Kyle saw Stan again. "You'll never be happy. You'll be alone with your mom and your doubt."

Cartman softened his hold, but still didn't let go. Now it was just more of a hug then a restraint. "Give me the phone. Give me the phone and I'll tell you the future."

"You first." Kyle said, not looking at Eric.

"Long term, we're all going to die. No surprise there. Short term, you'll live happily ever after."

Kyle and Cartman stood there for a moment, taking that in. All that made a noise was the phone, still ringing.

Kyle handed the phone to Cartman, who, without even letting go of Kyle's waist, threw it against the wall, making it smash into a rain of plastic, metal, and freedom.


	18. The Exploration

In the dark with one hand against the wall, Kyle reasoned this all out to himself and Cartman a few feet ahead.

"I can't run away." He said, carefully going over each room class tag to read it blindly. "If I run away none of this will ever end. My mom and dad will just sit and worry."

"And rot," Cartman added quickly.

"And Stan will go nuts when he finds out I'm gone. With you." For some reason he kept forgetting that part. "I mean, last time I left home by my self everyone was so busy burying their heads in the sand they didn't know I was ever gone until I got back."

They were walking through the dark halls at probably around ten at night looking for some room. 1253, according to Eric. Kyle didn't know what room that was, but he had his hand on the wall pawing for numbers anyway because he could read brail and Cartman couldn't.

"Well maybe they'll be so busy burying their heads in doubt that their poor son is gay they won't notice this time either. Steps," Cartman said. A few moments later sure enough Kyle carefully started going down stairs.

"Charming," Kyle said. A few quiet minutes later he asked, "What about your mom, won't she worry about her little 'poopsiekins'?"

"Nah. She's probably used to this kind of thing."

"Oh…"

"'Oh' WHAT?"

"'Oh' nothing. Just 'oh'. 'Oh that's interesting'."

Another few minutes later Kyle went on. "And anyway, I don't even know where we're going. What kind of idiot am I? I'm not going to follow some psycho across the country to some Candy Mountain where all my dreams will come true."

"How can you have dreams with that NEGATIVE ATTITUDE OF YOURS?"

"…You're a real ass sometimes, you know that?"

"Yes, I make a point to be." Kyle could hear the smirk in his tone.

"You're a dick too." Kyle added, feeling room 1168. Then 1170.

"That makes gay porn." Eric added smugly.

"I think we're on the wrong side of the hall, Cartman." Kyle informed him. "I'm getting all even numbers."

Quick enough Cartman grabbed Kyle's hand and helped him across the hall. "Now?"

Kyle felt and read out, "1171."

"We're getting close then."

In the dark Kyle could hear everything. In room 1175 a computer still droned on. Outside a muffled car alarm went off. But most of all he heard Eric. His careful foot steps, his even smooth breathing. If it was any quieter Kyle thought he could hear the wheels turning in Cartman's mind.

_Like I'd want that_, he thought. Some things are too crazy for even Kyle to handle.

At room 1189 Kyle decided now was as good a time as any to ask, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Cartman's breathing paused for a second, then returned to normal. "You offend me, Kyle. Aren't I always nice to you?"

"No. You haven't called me a Jew, or yelled at me, or shoved me up against a wall and threatened my life at all since you came to get me."

"Do you want me to shove you up against a wall?"

Kyle thought about the right answer to that and decided there wasn't one. "Is it because of this morning…?" Kyle for some reason felt the need to reason with why Stan kissed him, but logically knew he shouldn't.

"I wouldn't mind."

"…What?"

"Shoving you up against a wall."

Thank god it was dark. Kyle felt less stupid about blushing. He was on room 1201 now, and knew he didn't have a lot of time before something else would happen.

"Well you haven't."

_That was just asking for it_, Kyle thought. But Cartman just kept going steadily ahead.

"Why do you want to run away so bad?" Kyle asked and didn't really expect an answer. When he didn't get one, he went on. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Room 1215 and Kyle decided to let it all out right there. "Why do you want to help me? Why aren't you mad that I ruined your plan?"

Kyle was getting flustered at room 1229 but kept going. As long as Eric didn't say anything it felt like he was alone. "Why did you want to blackmail me? Was it for sex? What am I to you? You're toy? You're boyfriend? You're enemy?"

It was room 1243 and he knew his time was almost up before the next big hit. "Why aren't you telling me things? Why are you avoiding the truth? Why do you think this is going to work?"

It was room 1249. Then a few breaths later room 1251. The moment of truth.

"What is the great Eric Cartman's plan?"

Cartman turned then, practically making Kyle topple over from surprise. He grabbed Kyle by the forearms and held him there while he quickly found his lips and kissed him. Kyle tried to say something but couldn't find the words or breath to. Instead, he reached his hand behind his back and turned the door handle to room 1253 and they both fell inside.

On the floor (because they both are graceful people that are ungraceful together) Cartman hung over Kyle. His face was slightly visible in the light from a window. He looked… frustrated. But not angry. "Jesus, Kyle…" He said, huffing slightly. "All you had to do was ask."

After a second of waiting for Kyle's reply, he got up and looked around, squinting. "Well." He said. "You did it. Nice work."

"Where are we?" Kyle said, still lying on the floor, propping himself up with his elbows. He felt a bit pathetic and realized why when he felt a bit of wetness land on his shoulder.

"Teacher's lounge." Cartman said opening and closing cupboards.

Kyle quickly tried to wipe away his stupid pointless tears hoping Eric didn't notice. "Why?"

Cartman opened another cabinet and grinned at what he found. "Well," He said, pulling out a few bottles of something and setting them on a table. "Do you want to go through this _sober_?"

"Alcohol. Of course." Kyle said, sitting up at rolling his eyes at the educational system provided to him.

"Well it is South Park," Eric said happily.


	19. The Comfort

It must have been around one in the morning when Kyle suddenly was jerked out of sleep. He sat up quickly and looked around the dark staff room for what could have caused the rude interruption on his dream, to no avail.

He slowly laid back down in his recliner (yes, that's what the school's budget is spent on) and soon realized he was panting and had a cold sweat.

"Must have been a nightmare."

Kyle jumped in his skin and turned too quickly toward the voice, giving himself a head rush. _Oh, thank god it's only Cartman. _He thought, then quickly took it back realizing what he was saying.

"W-What?" He said, trying to even out his breathing.

"Explaining everything to Stan, it must have been a nightmare." Cartman's voice was oddly dull.

They were sleeping in the staff meeting room because it was the only one with comfortable chairs. Eric was comfortably settled with a bottle of something red at his side, in a chair right next to Kyle's.

Kyle took a second to think about that. "Oh. Yeah… Kind of. It wasn't so bad actually saying it all, but having to watch his face change with every sentence…" He looked back at Cartman in the pitch black and tried to see him.

"Did you tell him?" Cartman asked with a tired slur. "You know, about the details?"

"No." Kyle said quickly. "No, no, I don't think he could have handled that much bad news at once. I just…"

'_What did he want from you, Kyle?'_

"I told him it was a power trip for you, basically."

There was a light chuckle from Eric at that. Then a moment of silence besides the sound of a bottle opening and closing a few seconds later.

"Cartman…" Kyle said carefully. "Are you drunk?"

More silence from the other party.

"Cartman?"

"A bit, yes. Why? You planning something?"

Kyle had to smile softly at that. "No, you're the one with all the plans. I'm just the bitch-boy sidekick."

"That's correct. So don't even think of using that big head of yours, I got you covered. We'll get through this all on me covering both our asses. Like… A blanket."

_At least he's a fun drunk and not an angry drunk. _Kyle thought.

Kyle got up and worked his way over to Eric's chair in the dark. "Scoot over, it's cold in here." He said, nudging Cartman over. He snorted and moved a bit so Kyle could get comfy next to him. The recliners were big enough that the two of them fit easily in one together.

"So," Kyle said. "What _is_ the plan?"

Cartman took another swing of the bottle and then said, "We'll head to Vegas and get a cheap motel room. Then we sell yer body on the corners, me being your pimp of course. After we make enough money to last us a while we can go wherever we please. Maybe settle down in some city where I'll getta job and you'll be a house wife and make me dinner every night. And we'll have a dog."

"I prefer cats," Kyle said, grinning.

"Fine, well you'll have a cat and I'll hava dog. He'll probably eat your girly ass cat, though. And then after a few years, at least til my dog dies, we'll leave and go to take over the world." Cartman turned onto his side and talked so close to Kyle that Kyle could feel his breath on the side of his neck. "That sound ok to you?"

Kyle instinctively turned onto his side now and faced away from Cartman. "I dunno. I don't really picture you to be the settling type. You'd probably cheat on me and have a mid life crisis before we took over the world. Maybe you should buy a motorcycle ahead of time."

"Not a bad idea," Eric said, wrapping his arm around Kyle's waist and pulling him closer to him. "But I doubt we could fit yer poofy hair into the helmet." Cartman's hand slipped under Kyle's shirt but not going any further then his waist.

"What are you doing, Cartman?" Kyle asked, feeling his breath on the back of his neck now, giving him the shivers.

"I'm drunk. I can do whatever I want." Cartman explained in an ever-so-un-explanational way. Then he did the oddest thing and kissed Kyle on the back of his neck. No biting, to licking, no death threatening grins. Just a soft kiss.

"C-Cartman…?" Kyle muttered unsurely.

"You need to go to sleep, Kyle. We have to be up before six tomorrow and you need to sleep." Eric said, although his actions would state other wise. He kissed him again and then again on his vertebrae, each kiss softer and slower then the last.

"Cart…man…?" Kyle said, drifting off. "What…" It was hard to make words form; it felt like he'd been drinking maple syrup.

Every time Cartman kissed him it felt like he was being enchanted. It was strangely soothing and maybe he didn't really understand what was going on, but he didn't really mind it.

"Relax. I've got you covered." Cartman said quietly.

"Er…...ic…" And finally Kyle was asleep.

Cartman looked at Kyle, now sleeping soundly, and wondered something. He turned Kyle over, making him face himself, and kissed him on the lips this time. Kyle made a soft quiet noise. Eric sighed and laid back down, tucking Kyle's head under his chin.

"Don't tell Cartman I did that," He whispered to Kyle, soon enough falling asleep himself.


	20. The Disclose

"WHERE IS HE??"

Stan now stood in Kyle's room, but the problem was, Kyle wasn't in it. With him was Kyle's dad, expecting Stan to know the answer to that question.

"I don't know," Stan said for the fifteenth time. God this man was difficult to work with. "If he only disappeared the day before yesterday, why can't you just call the cops?"

"Oh, please," Gerald scoffed. "Have you _seen_ the police force here? I'd have better luck just throwing some pancakes in the street and yelling out his name."

He had a point, Stan figured. How could they depend on one only slightly literate officer and mall cops?

"What makes you think I should know, anyway? I haven't heard from him since we got suspended," Stan tried to reason.

Of course Stan was just as curious (ok, he was quietly going nuts) as Gerald was as to where Kyle was. He didn't really look for anything in the room, just kind of stood in the middle of it and tried to take in what would probably be his last time seeing it. Besides, Kyle wasn't the note-leaving type. If he doesn't want to be found, he won't leave a trail.

"And if he didn't tell you, then I suppose he wouldn't tell anyone…" Gerald said, defeated.

Ah, Stan was a sucker for depressed middle aged men. "Maybe he's just… getting some air." Stan tried to say hopefully. "I mean, it's understandable, right? According to you, you both were…" _Don't say 'suffocating'_. "Really…" _Don't say 'on his ass'_. "Confusing him. He probably will be back in a say or two." Stan tried to smile, but couldn't find the heart to.

Gerald collapsed on his son's bed with a groan. "Stanley. I know that this must be awkward for you. I'm _trying_ here. I even waited until Sheila was out of the house before I invited you over. But you've got to help me here."

Stan sat down next to Kyle's dad on his bed, feeling uncomfortable all around about it.

"I…" Gerald started. "Kyle's my son, Stanley. You can understand that, right? You… You must understand how much this is killing me. You must know where he is…?"

Stan just shook his head. "Mr. Brofloski, if I knew where Kyle was, don't you think I would be out there with him?"

There was a moment of silence then. Gerald stared at the floor and Stan stared at the ceiling. It was like their world came together, over Kyle.

Stan couldn't take it. He knew that Kyle had always had a problem with his mom smothering him, but his dad was ok, Stan thought. He just seemed like a lost guy looking for his son.

"…How bad do you want to find Kyle?"

Gerald blinked and thought it over for a second. Then he turned to Stan and said clearly determined, "I would turn the Earth over if it'd give me a clue as to where he is."

Stan smiled a bit. _Yeah, ok._

"Kyle and I… We used to have a game. It was like a secret code, sort of. We'd leave notes for each other; little messages that almost meant nothing unless you looked close enough, in the last place anyone would look for one."

Stan stood up and walked to the center of the room. "We'd play it as a game but every once in a while we'd use it for important stuff."

He turned back to Gerald, who looked like he was being taught calculus by a kinder gardener. "I'll help you find out if he's still alive, but you have to promise me three things."

"Anything," Kyle's dad said almost too quickly.

"One," Stan said, counting it off on his fingers. "You can't tell his mom."

Gerald gave Stan an unconvinced look but then nodded.

"Two, you can't follow after him. He wants to be alone and you have to respect that."

Gerald looked sadly at the floor again but then raised his eyes to Stan and nodded silently.

"And three," Stan said, hesitating. "When he comes back," Not 'if' because there's no way he wont ever be back. "You have to let me talk to him first."

Gerald took a moment to take that all in. Then after a minute, he said, "If you ever become a lawyer you'd put me out of business. But ok, Stanley. You win."

Stan smiled and then kicked off the rug on the floor below him. "Your clue has been right under your nose this whole time."

On the wood of the floor was a tiny carving. The words were so small that Gerald had to put his face right up to it to read it.

"Limbless babies aren't less annoying, but they are less mobile. –Joey Comeau."

Gerald blinked and read it again, then looked back at Stan. "What does THAT mean?"

Stan grinned and put the rug back on the spot. "It means your son is still alive."


End file.
